


There’s not much dynamic range to it

by hwbswd



Category: Rammstein
Genre: By which I mean Flake's ass, Fickhosen, Gen, Silly, mild nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwbswd/pseuds/hwbswd
Summary: Q: you said that tatoos is forbidden in rammstein but till have a tatto on is ass i read on a internettpage.Flake: That's not true.Flake: For Bück Dich, I personnally wrote with a felt tip marker on my arse so that Till would enjoy penetrating me.Flake: And he really had to laugh!Flake: To be certain, I always tape my ass closed.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe & Flake Lorenz
Comments: 16
Kudos: 23





	There’s not much dynamic range to it

Richard is expecting a nice quiet show prep, until Flake pushes the door open just enough to poke his head in. “Richard!” he whisper-shouts. Ollie gives him a quizzical eyebrow in the mirror. The only downside of rooming with Ollie is that he needs help with his makeup, there’s quite a bit of him that has to be painted white. He’s already done his face, and a tech has taped the audio leads down his back, but the rest of him is unbleached. 

“Pssst, Richard!” 

Richard sits in the other chair with his headphones on and his eyes closed. Ollie nudges him on the shin with his foot. Anyone else would have had to get up to reach. Richard opens one eye, Ollie indicates the door. 

“Richard? I need your help with something.” Richard doesn’t quite get his brain in gear to ask what it is before Flake continues, “Can you come here?”

“Yes?” From his tone he’s responding to the first question, not the second. Flake beckons in his usual flapping way, marker in hand. Clearly he’s not going to come in and explain himself, so Richard heaves himself up and reluctantly goes over. Ollie watches them with that cool, expressionless look that used to give Flake the willies, until Flake grabs Richard’s wrist and pulls him out. 

In the hall Flake brandishes the marker at him. “I want a tattoo on my ass.” 

“That’s rather forward of you.” 

“Rather backward, really.” Sometimes Flake surprises himself with his jokes, but this one he accompanies with a knowing twirl of the marker. 

Richard groans. “Oh my god, that’s terrible, I walked right into that. Why, though?” 

“Well, see, it is not actually a good idea to write on one’s own ass. Not unless you want it to be upside down and crooked and look like it was done by a child. I just spent several minutes twisting around uncomfortably in front of a mirror to convince myself of that. Fortunately I wimped out before I made any marks, so now it’s up to you.”

“Okay, but to what end?”

“My end, I just said.”

Richard covers his eyes “Please stop.”

Flake struggles to look serious. “To surprise Till. It’ll be great, help me out.”

“But why do you want me in particular to do it?” 

“You tweeze your eyebrows, you clearly have better hand-eye coordination than the average around here.”

“Yes, Flake, I do engage in a minimum level of personal grooming.”

“More than minimal. Definitely more than me. My only saving grace is that I’m just naturally not very hairy.”

“I did not need to hear that.” 

Flake waves his hand reassuringly. “Nothing you didn’t already know. Besides, you’ve got a better sense of design than any of the rest of us.”

“You sound as though you have very high standards for this thing that’s going on your ass.” 

“Which is why I’m appealing to your pride in your skills to convince you, you’ll at least make it look good. Schneider can only manage stick figures, Paul would just laugh himself silly and his handwriting is atrocious, and Ollie...I don’t actually know what Ollie would do. But I’m too much of a coward to find out.” 

“And you’re going to surprise Till?” 

“Right, why should he have to look at my undecorated ass night after night? It must get monotonous.” 

Richard crosses his arms “That would have been quite the thing to say if it came from anyone else.” 

Flake rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. Have I convinced you, or do I need to compliment your abilities further?”

Richard leans on the wall and looks Flake over, considering. “Well...as much as I love having my praises sung, this is just too weird to pass up.” 

“Great.” Flake nods once, decisively, and hands Richard the marker before he reaches for his waistband. 

“Whoa, whoa, Flake, you can’t just drop trou here, Jesus!” 

Flake mercifully pauses. “Why not?” 

“Everyone and their lighting guy comes through here!” 

Flake tilts his head, like he doesn’t see the connection. His expression clears. “There’s what, forty thousand people in the audience?”

“Yeah, but - look, let’s just find somewhere else.” Richard kind of sees his point, but he doesn’t really want to argue it. Or have Flake take his pants down in a main thoroughfare. “Besides, Till might come by, and there’s your surprise gone.” 

They find an unused little room off the locker rooms that even has a carpeted floor, though it’s pretty dusty and one wall is full of boxes. Richard props the door with his shoe, you only have to get locked in the guts of a stadium once to learn that lesson. 

“You want to sit on a box?” Flake suggests. 

“No way, you’re going to wobble all over the place if you stand, you know?” Richard points at the floor. “Lay down.”

Flake kneels, then pulls his jogging pants down and his too-big t-shirt up just enough to reveal his pale bony ass. Richard politely looks away to give him some privacy, before he remembers what the plan is. He glances back at Flake who had now laid down, gangly arms folded under his head and his butt...butting free in the breeze. 

Richard sits on the floor beside him. “Aren’t you ever embarrassed, Flake?” 

“Oh, practically constantly. But there’s not much dynamic range to it, you know?” 

“If you’re always embarrassed you’re never embarrassed?” 

Flake nods. He actually looks kind of relaxed, parked there on the floor with his ass out. 

Richard crosses his legs. His knee bumps Flake’s hip. “If you fart on me I’ll never forgive you.” 

That earns one of Flake’s surprised chortles, he evidently wasn’t expecting that. “It’s a dangerous profession.”

“What, being your marker-tattoo artist?” 

“Just so.”

“Yeah, great, my life-long ambition is finally fulfilled.” He uncaps the marker. “Okay, what are we doing here?” 

“I actually hadn’t thought that far ahead. Band logo seems safe. I dunno, as long as it looks like a tattoo do whatever you want.”

Richard nods, though Flake can’t see it, and carefully begins outlining the band logo on Flake’s left cheek. He braces his elbow on his knee and hovers his hand, in the way of one who is a close enough friend to draw on his ass, but not intimate enough to deliberately touch it. He makes the outline good-sized, why mess around? 

“How’s it going?” Flake says after a minute, trying to look over his shoulder. 

Richard holds him in place with two fingers on his shoulder blade. “Don’t rush the artist. And quit wiggling.” He’s done the lines heavy and thick and now is starting on some shading, he’s always liked how the logo looked when it was filled in a little. It doesn’t take too long, the design is fairly simple. 

He gives it a final look. It’s pretty good, though up close there’s no question that it was done in marker. It’s just missing one thing. 

“Are you signing your initials on my ass?!” Flake asks, incredulously.

“You can tell just by feel?”

Flake cranes around, trying to see. “I’ve only watched you do it about a million times, RZK. But for real, you just signed my butt.” 

“Yup,” says Richard with satisfaction. He blows on the ink to dry it, and Flake shivers. “Go find a mirror, it’s not bad.” 

Flake stands and pulls his pants back up. His shirt really doesn’t fit him at all, he looks like a little kid in jammies. Richard dusts his seat off. “You’ve got some -” he points at Flake’s whole front, now covered in dust from the floor. Flake ineffectually swats at it. 

Richard puts his shoe back on while Flake holds the door. 

“Now I have to find tape.”

“Tape?” 

“I’m taping my ass closed.” 

“Whatever for? That dildo couldn’t penetrate anything firmer than applesauce.” It has to be fairly soft to live in Till’s pants, even with as...spacious as his stage costume is.

“It’s not the hose, it’s the spray.” 

“Do you usually? Tape, I mean?” 

“Nah, I’m just jerking Till’s chain.” 

Richard looks at him out of the corner of his eye. He still can’t always tell when Flake is joking on purpose, and when it just kind of happens to him. 

“Oh. Ha ha.” So that one must have snuck up on him. Richard chuckles. 

As they get back to the dressing room area Richard expects Flake to go to his own, but instead he follows Richard in. Ollie looks at him inquisitively.

Richard shrugs. Ollie returns his gaze to Flake, who has backed up to Richard’s mirror and bared his ass to it. 

“Oh, nice!” That’s one of the most fun things about Flake, he isn’t shy about being enthusiastic. “It’s got shading and everything. See, I knew you would do a good job.” 

“Did you sign Flake’s butt?” Ollie asks levelly.

“I clearly deserve credit for that creation,” Richard says. “Flake, out. I want my mirror back.” 

After ejecting Flake and doing his own makeup, and then Ollie’s extraordinary expanse of back, they move on to the part of the evening where they loiter in the corridors in costume. 

Richard has a smoke. 

“So, Richard.” Paul sidles up to him with a conspiratorial smirk. “I am given to understand that you signed Flake’s hiney.” 

“In addition to a very nice rendition of the band logo, yes.” 

“Whose idea was that?”

Richard blows out a long stream of smoke. “I’ll give you one guess.” 

Paul sniggers.

During the concert Richard is otherwise occupied, he’s working. He does tune in once Flake starts taking position, though. Richard wanders around to where he can see Till. For a few moments he’s afraid Till isn’t going to notice at all, he actually gets the flap down without as much a glance. He definitely notices when Flake pushes his ass higher in the air, though, he distinctly does a double-take, and while his singing doesn’t falter one eyebrow does spring up. Richard grins with satisfaction and goes back to work. 

Show completed, they regroup in the hall by the dressing rooms. Only Till is already out of costume, the prop tech knows better than to let him wander around in it. 

Schneider beckons. “All right, Flake, let’s see this famous signature.” Of all of them he didn’t see it before the show, and he couldn’t see it during the show from his riser. 

“Well, yes, it is a famous signature I suppose, but that wasn’t really the point -” says Flake, hands going to the back of his waist. 

“Don’t encourage him, Schneider!” Paul interjects.

But it’s too late, Flake has unzipped and is already proudly displaying it. He apparently did find some tape, Richard wonders if he stuck it on himself or if he made someone else do it. 

Schneider cocks his head. “That could be a very valuable autograph.” 

Flake looks sadly to Richard. “Everyone wants to focus on that. Instead of the very high quality and attractiveness of the rest of it.”

Richard shakes his head. “No appreciation for art.” Flake beams back at him. 

Ollie says, “It survived the pressure-washing better than I expected.” 

Flake twists around to look at himself. “Huh, I figured alcohol would take it off.” 

“You picked the permanent marker there, pal,” Richard says. 

“Oh, no, I wasn’t objecting. I rather like it.” He zips his flap back up.

“How are you going to take the tape off?” 

“Slowly and painfully? Are there other options?” 

Till slings an arm around Flake’s narrow shoulders. “If your wife has questions, you can just say I enjoyed it very much.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” says Flake earnestly. “She does know what I do for a living.” As if they didn’t all know her. 

“But that doesn’t usually include tape burn and Richard’s initials on your keister,” Till points out. 

“Everyone wants to focus on that,” says Flake morosely.

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is from this delightful fan Q&A: http://herzeleid.com/en/press/2005-11_flake_chat_english which is honestly probably like ⅔ of the reason I got into R+ in the first place.


End file.
